She Was Sixteen and the Best of Us
by Matt.Burton
Summary: Shiri Eban, claiming to be with the Mossad, has been taken into NCIS custody. As she observes the interrogation Ziva wonders if she could be staring into the eyes of her supposedly deceased sister Tali. If proven to be true, is this yet another lie told to Ziva by the late Eli David? This is my first FanFic. Comments and constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated.
1. Chapter 1

Ziva stared blankly through the two way mirror, sizing up the young Israeli woman seated opposite Gibbs in Interrogation Two. There was a familiarity in the womans eyes. It was a familiarity that bared an uncanny resemblance from a lifetime ago clouded not only by the passage of time but by uncertainty justified through life events. Overriding her clarity and better state of mind an unconsciousness deep within Ziva's mind remained adamant that it recognized the Israeli suspect from some point in its past. Ziva fought back, waging a war in her own mind as with her finger tips she maintained a dangerously unsteady grip on common sense and logic.

"It can't be," Ziva reminded herself repeatedly. "It is impossible." Ziva slowed her speech, emphasizing every word uttered to convince herself that if she spoke aloud, her words should automatically be taken as fact. A side glance from the tech operating Interrogation Two's audio and video surveillance was inquisitive in nature but as much as Ziva had become a staple at NCIS Headquarters in the Washington navy yard over the past seven years her Mossad past remained with her and prevented others from probing too far deep into the eccentricities of Ziva David. "It's not her," she told herself for what was literally the twentieth time since entering the observation area a mere five minutes ago.

The _her_ Ziva spoke off was Talia David, known to everyone as _Tali_, and better known throughout the Israeli intelligence community as the most junior of the late Director Eli David's daughters, both of whom had excelled at a young age in the Mossad and made a name for themselves by the age of sixteen. The eldest daughter, four years Tali's senior, was the same woman who stood in NCIS' interrogation section thinking back to the last time she had seen Tali alive. Closing her eyes Ziva reflected back to her sisters final hours, recalling the events as if they had happened mere days ago instead of the almost fifteen years that had passed.

In her mind Ziva pictured Egypt in 1999, specifically the hotel and the surrounding neighbourhood where she, Tali and their control officer carried out their assignment to capture, or at least kill, a high ranking leader in Hamas known to be hiding out in the vicinity. Ziva did not want to leave Tali to fend for herself by they were a team, a team with priorities and at twenty one years old Ziva was not yet the control officer and had orders to follow. Under the orders of Amit Mostel Ziva sped through the barely open automatic doors while they barely had time to register her approach. Their target, as given to them by a recent wire from Tel Aviv was making a break for it and there was no time to lose. Through opposite doors of the lobby, each leading to a street on either side of the hotel, Ziva and Amit pursued the Hamas colonel who twice eluded the Mossad, in Zurich and Beirut.

On one of the green leather couches adorned with gold trim Tali sat vigilant. The splitting image of her sister Tali's dark hair hung down her back and over her shoulders as her brown eyes danced around the lobby, darting from the three separate elevator doors to the stairway leading down from the upper floors. Short of taking a dive off a balcony above the target Tali was tasked with tracking, one of the Hamas colonel's aides, could not leave the hotel without walking into her field of vision. At sixteen Tali was three months into her required service to the Israeli armed forces and with the influence of her high ranking father she had gained a position with the Mossad. While her father, sister and Officer Mostel were well aware of her abilities Tali knew she still had to prove her worth to the rest of the Israeli intelligence community from Mossad to Shin Bet to Aman.

An opportunity for Tali to prove herself was not long coming as, about five minutes after her teammates left the hotel, a rain of bullets pelted the glass doors to one side of the lobby. The doors and the glass panes making up their archway exploded across the lavish flooring, pouring onto presumed innocent businessmen and hotel staff passing through the portal at the exact wrong time. Tali threw herself to her knees, flipping over a heavy wooden table that was most definitely an antique and allowing it to absorb the occasional stray bullet. From the concealed holster at the small of her back Tali drew her jericho 941 and poked her head up from behind her makeshift cover for no more than a fraction of a second.

_Two shooters,_ Tali assessed the situation. _Probably AK-47's. No more than ten meters away. Across the street?_ Counting footsteps and assessing the distance of the shooters as they fired further sprays into the lobby as they made their approach Tali relied on her training to decide the appropriate time to make her present known. Rather then pop up over the top of the overturn table again Tali through her body horizontally against the floor so that only her body from the shoulders up was exposed. Firmly clutched in the grip of both of her hands Tali levelled the muzzle of her jericho against one of two men, both well dressed and groomed-Egyptian born-and perfectly presentable with the exception of the Russian built machine guns held against their torsos. Tali timed two trigger compressions, blowing the man to her left backwards into the pool of glass he and his cohort had created. Tali ducked behind the table and prayed it was thick enough to hold off the onslaught of bullets meant for her as the remaining gunman reacted with revenge in his eyes.

Alone with no reason to believe help was anywhere within reached Tali assessed her predicament. Between her and the second gunman she was at the disadvantage. He knew exactly where she was down to a square meter of the lobby and she could not risk picking her head up to even assess whether or not she could return fire. In the belief that it would create enough of a distraction for her to successfully pop off at least one bullet from her weapon Tali reached for the perfectly sharpened fighting knife concealed at her waist. She prepared to toss it up and over the top edge of the table but stopped short just as the roar of the machine gun cut out abruptly in response to a single double tap.

"TALI!" the voice of the eldest David sister sailed through the lobby.

Tali picked her head up from behind the table, her weapon at the ready, but found the strangely comfortable scene of her sister and Amit Mostel racing through the ravaged hotel entrance, each with their own glock levelled at either downed gunman.

Even as Ziva and Tali embraced their control officer remained alert. "The police will be here soon," he said to them, almost scolding them for taking a few precious seconds to surrender to their emotions. Scanning any access point into the lobby he sternly warned them,"We have to leave."

"The Colonel?" Tali asked, returning her sidearm to its holster as her team prepared to make themselves scarce. d

"Gone." A one word answer, but Ziva's delivery carried with it all the feelings of failure and disappointment she and Amit were plagued with.

"As we should be," Amit again scolded the young women. He grabbed ahold of both their shirts sleeves and gave them both a swift tug. "Now!" He practically threw both sisters out of the door but quickly regretted his decision as a third gentleman round the corner from the abandoned street outside of the hotel and charged the the Mossad agents, all of whom knew what the second tier of the attack meant and they didn't need to see the proof that came in the form of wiring poking out from beneath the third gentleman's coat.

"Run!" Ziva exclaimed, hauling back Tali as she and Amit turned tale and ran towards the still intact glass doors opposite their side of the lobby. As they ran her mind did not have the time to register whether it was her loss of grip or the force with which Tali pulled, only that the fabric of Tali's shirt broke contact with Ziva's hand.

As high pitched beeps decreased in intervals beneath the gentleman's blazer Tali plowed her right foot into the flooring in one final push and threw herself towards the man. As their chests collided the sixteen year old Israeli woman's arms wrapped themselves around the man's neck, holding herself in place as she tackled him to the ground. Picking herself up Tali rushed for the exit from which all three intruders came, opposite Ziva and Amit's exit, but her back picked up the edge of the blast radius as the suicide vest strapped around the third man's torso detonated and ripped apart what was left of the doorway and part of the lobby. At the time, from their angle as they ran out of the lobby on their side it looked to Ziva and Amit as if there was zero chance that Tali could have escaped the explosion. As the local authorities arrived on scene neither had the opportunity to backtrack to be sure.

_She was sixteen and the best of us._


	2. Chapter 2

The memories of Cairo faded, sinking back into the depths of Ziva's memory as she returned her consciousness to the present with a personally inflicted patented Gibbs' slap to the base of her own skull. In a rare breakdown from her heightened situational awareness that had been instilled in her since childhood Ziva had not noticed Special Agent Tony DiNozzo enter the observation room. Now standing beside her the second in command of the MCRT out of the navy yard chowed down on a fully loaded burrito that gave Ziva heartburn just by looking at it. Ziva also did not notice that she was twirling her star of david pendant in between her fingers, a tell that she had something on her mind which she immediately stopped herself from doing. In silence, a luxury in the presence of DiNozzo, the pair stared straight ahead as they observed the epic stand off already in progress.

In the interrogation room SSA Leroy Jethro Gibbs sat at the table with his back to the two way mirror. The position was not only customary for an investigating agent but it was also strongly defended by the MCRT's supervisory agent who was known to physically remove any other agent, NCIS or otherwise, from the chair should they dare to try and take the reigns of an interrogation without his say-so. Legendary for his stoic, cold persona the lead agent sat cross legged with a file closed in front of him as he took slow, shallow sips from his coffee cup. With his lack of speech and unbroken stare alone Gibbs was known to reduce a suspect to tears before spilling their guts and making a full confession. It was almost unheard of for an interrogation to be ten minutes in without the suspect showing at least some sign of discomfort yet as the Israeli woman sat with equal composure rivaling that of Agent Gibbs' that was exactly how long the current interrogation had lasted. It was a battle of wits and for the first time in recorded history Gibbs appeared to have met his match.

Tony, ever sure of himself, was moments away from initiating an office pool, taking bets on when the female suspect would crack. "It's only a matter of seconds before she breaks down," Tony predicted with a mouth full of burrito fillings in his typical, seemingly demented glee that often overcame him while observing his boss in action. "Like putty in his hands," he added with another gigantic bite, a glop of cheese bonded by refried beans dripping on to his tie. "Want some?" he offered to a disgusted partner.

"Pass," Ziva politely declined though she made no attempt to hide her disgust as DiNozzo pigged out. "I don't think it will be quite so easy this time, Tony," she dismissed him.

"No?" Again Tony challenged Ziva, a cocky grin sweeping across his burrito smudged lips as he threw the empty wrapper into a near by waste basket. "If they're guilty they always crack," he proclaimed. "She is. She will."

"When our agents picked her up, she claimed to be Mossad, Tony," Ziva apprised Tony of the events leading up their suspects delivery to the navy yard. "Speaking from experience Mossad officers are not just trained to conduct an interrogation. We are trained to endure the same techniques we are trained to use."

"Mossad, huh?" Tony replied, intrigued as he gave the exotic beauty the once over through the two-way mirror. He glanced to Ziva out of the corner of his right eye and asked, "Do you recognize her?"

It was not an unexpected question. As she herself was ex-Mossad Ziva knew the question would find her sooner or later but she was unsure of how to respond to the question. Complicating her answer was her desire to never lie to Tony unless it was absolutely necessary. This was a grey area. While her memory continued to insist that she not only knew their suspect but was actually related to her Ziva persisted in her denial. There was no reason to believe that her little sister had survived in Cairo and if she had Ziva was confident that nothing short of hell could keep them apart for nearly fifteen years.

"Ziva?" Tony's voice faded in and out, as if emanating from another reality. Reflected in his eyes were both curiosity as to her obvious distraction and concern as to why she had not replied.

Dazed Ziva broke herself out of the cloud hanging overhead. "No," she replied quickly, sharply. The question she posed to herself, however, was if she had been truthful or dishonest in that reply. "We've never worked together."

Often as unreadable as Gibbs Ziva did not allow any facial tick or physical tell to disclose her deepest thoughts. Unfortunately she was standing in the same room as one of only two people in the world who could read her mind. In their relationship that was classified as brother/sister or as sexually frustrated lovers depending on whose opinion you sought Tony found himself genuinely misled by Ziva only on a half dozen occasions perhaps because he relied on his gut and rarely second guessed himself. He did not say anything in his uncertainty but that gut feeling told Tony that Ziva was not being entirely truthful with him. The instinct did not tell him that what he was hearing was an outright lie however he was convinced she was holding something back from him.

While standing shoulder to shoulder the distance created by the agent's unusual and sudden coldness brought on by uncertainty felt like a gap spanning the distance between their native homelands. Tony hesitated in asking what was on Ziva's mind and when he opened his mouth, finally deciding to probe further, he was interrupted by the voice of their supervisor reaching them through the audio recorders that bugged Interrogation Two.

"Do you recognize these men?" Gibbs had asked. While his agents spoke among themselves in the hidden room behind them he had since opened the NCIS case file and picked out two 8x10 service photos, laying them out on the table directly in front of the Israeli woman held in custody. The photo on the left depicted an African American man in his mid-thirties though without facial hair and with his head shaved he looked like a man in his late twenties. "Special Agent Joshua Ford, father of three young boys," Gibbs humanized the late agent, also known as the assistant special agent in charge of NSA-_Naval Support Activity-_Bahrain. Gibbs' voice was calm as he spoke, carrying out the interrogation as if he and this yet to be identified woman were having nothing more than a civilized, casual conversation. It was a front, of course, not so much to gain the suspect's trust but to build up to an explosive, damning line of questioning that would promptly make her jump in her chair out of fear for physical harm that would never come.

For the time being the Israeli woman sat unmoved by the NCIS agents unusual calmness. At the very least many interrogators preferred to get up close and personal with their suspect, coming through the door guns blazing, firing off question after question until their suspect broke down and started spilling their guts to the officers. Indeed in the suspects homeland by now she would have at the very least a jaw on the verge of being shattered or her fair share of bruises on her arms or midsection of her body. The unnerving, unusual peaceful air of the plain grey interrogation room did nothing to pursuade her to start talking to the investigating agent. She, too, sat cross legged with her arms folded across her chest, eyes locked with Gibbs in a test of wits as he proceeded with their _friendly chat_.

"Special Agent Jamil Nazir, single father of a seventeen year old daughter who was accepted to NYADA," Gibbs continued, tapping the photo on the right as the seriousness of his tone increased slightly. The agent was thin, lanky by all appearances but as an agent also assigned to the middle east he was fully capable of holding his own in a brawl and even when compared to a linebacker he was the man you wanted to have your back.

Gibbs tone suddenly jumped into a dull roar, not enough to scare the living daylights out of his suspect but enough to put most suspects on edge. "He had a daughter who I now have to tell that the only parent she has ever known will never be able to come see her perform on Broadway!" Perhaps because he had lost his own daughter long before either parent or daughter should have had to mourn the others loss Gibbs' tone jumped further, escalating the interrogation at a faster pace than usual.

The suspect's shoulders tensed, slowly joined by tensing muscles in her upper body as her casual slouch in posture turned transitioned into a ninety degree angle. In compensation for her glaring giveaway the suspect arched her chin up, looking snidely down upon Agent Gibbs, refusing to appear weak in his presence. "What do you want?"

_Odd,_ Ziva had observed from behind the glass. A Mossad officer was never that easy to dishelve or unravel. More than just her physical discomfort the suspects eyes also betrayed her. Previously the very image of the strength and determination common among Israeli women and Israeli soldiers as a whole a glimmer in the suspects eyes faded into a translation of sadness, maybe mourning. _It makes sense. Our 'abba' was not around much growing up._ Ziva tried to catch herself in time to derail her train of thought running on a collision course but it was too late. She found her subconscious breaking through, convincing her better state of mind of what she truly did not want to believe.

Travelling in the opposite direction Tony was in his glee, cheering his boss on as if a spectator at a football game instead of a mature, highly trained Federal agent monitoring a serious, high profile criminal investigation. "What did I tell you," he bragged, looking over at Ziva in time to catch the erratic dance of her eyeballs in their sockets. "Ziva," Tony broke through the returning clouding in his partner's head. Maybe it was the familiarity of their lives, he considered what might have been distracting the usually composed "super stealthy, super lethal Israeli ninja chick" as someone had once labelled her.

Growing up in Israel was not an easy life, certainly not one that Tony could relate to. The DiNozzo's were all money, born with a silver spoon in their mouths and country club bred. While Anthony DiNozzo Sr.'s cash flow had run dry the family history was still there. Having grown up in a wealthy Italian community on Long Island it was impossible for the younger DiNozzo to comprehend the dangers of growing up in a war torn Middle Eastern region surrounded by explosions and death. In the seven years that he and Ziva worked along side one another he had heard stories of exploding ambulances and twelve year old suicide bombers. Along with other atrocities, many unspeakable, Tony could not fathom what it was like to be raised in such a harsh environment. Both Ziva and their suspect did understand that life and if the suspect had told the truth about working for the Mossad both she and Ziva had grown up and decided to do something beyond their required two year conscription in the Israeli forces to free their homeland of terrorists wishing to destroy their way of life.

"Look at them," Gibbs commanded, compelling his suspects eyes to look down at the photos where they lingered over the service photo of SA Nazir. "You killed these men," he said in a statement rather than a question. "Two NCIS special agents serving abroad to guard the interests of the United States were murdered, shot in the back without provocation while their service weapons were holstered," Gibbs laid out what facts they possessed courtesy of CCTV footage sent to them by the international airport in Bahrain. "By you." The latter was speculation substantiated by various witness accounts however any hard evidence had been negligible do to the agents' killer, presumably the woman seated opposite Gibbs, who knew exactly where to walk to avoid her face being captured on tape anywhere near Agents Ford or Nazir.

"There were many other people in that airport," the suspect reminded Gibbs in an attempt to displace the suspicion with which she had been blanketed. Her tone of voice, thick with an accent expected of one born near Tel Aviv, reflected personal offence and resentment towards the agent. "I wish to speak with Israeli consulate." Empowered by her objection to her arrest, speaking for the first time since the C-130 carrying her and her escort landed stateside, the young woman adjusted her posture. Tough she remained upright she allowed her muscles to relax, ridding them off the tension she had unwillingly allowed to prosper.

"Or would you prefer to speak to Orli?" Gibbs asked mischievously, in extremely casual reference to Orli Elbaz, Eli David's successor as director of the Mossad. "Considering that you are on your way to a detention facility for enemy combatants when I'm done with you, the head of Mossad may be of more use to you than any lawyer."

That was it. A detention facility for enemy combatants, for terrorists, was one of the most feared installations on Earth. Operated out of an American Naval base in Cuba Guatanamo Bay's Camp Delta was the destination of choice for foreign suspects held under the same circumstances as the Israeli woman seated before Gibbs. Stories roamed the globe about the infamous prison, stories about inhuman acts carried out by US military personnel as well as operatives in the American intelligence community called upon to administer there own personal breed of interrogation. Even Leroy Jethro Gibbs' methods had nothing on those of Camp Delta's _interview specialists._

Initially the suspect did not waiver at the mention of a terrorist detainment camp. She had, after all, indicated that she was not who NCIS was looking for but all suspects claimed they were wrongly accused at one point or another. In the case of this woman investigators were sure they had the right suspect and while she did not proceed to give in their suspect did make the decision to become more vocal. "I am not a terrorist," she insisted. "And I did not kill your agents." It wasn't ground breaking, but it was a step in the right direction in getting the woman to open up to him.

"Authorities in Al Manama and the agents who escorted you to Andrews claim that you stated you were working for Mossad." Gibbs withdrew the photos he had laid out and replaced them with a passport in a blue sleeve baring the coat of arms of Canada. "This Canadian passport you were carrying, on your way out of Bahrain, has imperfections common to fraudulent passports found on a Mossad agent we busted in Los Angeles."

"If you are so confident that I am with Mossad why bother asking me these questions?" the suspect asked confidently, perhaps too confidently in her situation.

In the face of direct defiance from his suspect Gibbs stood from his chair and rounded the interrogation table. Standing to her right Gibbs placed a hand on the back of her chair and the other on the tables edge as he leaned and, in a hushed volume, delivered the news that would either exonerate her or damn her to hell. "I have an ex Mossad officer on my team," he told the suspect. "I guarantee you that in less than one hour I will have proof that you work for Mossad and that, under orders, you shot and killed my agents in cold blood." Tightening his grip Gibbs inched closer, his lips in almost direct contact with Tali's ear lobe. "I will then throw your ass back on board that C-130 and personally hand you over to Gitmo MPs."

Gathering the file folder under his arm Gibbs left his suspect to her own thoughts. As composed as the suspect attempted to be her eyes and her autonomic bodily functions betrayed her. Tony and Ziva knew just by observing that her heart rate had increased significantly and basic human behaviour told them that the expression they witnessed in her eyes was worrisome, unsure of what would come in the next couple hours. The suspect was no doubt wondering if she would be in one of the holding cells of Camp Delta, reputed to be utterly inhuman, before the week was out.


	3. Chapter 3

In the short walk from the interrogation room to the squad room Tony and Ziva kept there distance as they followed behind Gibbs, weary in the aftermath of Gibbs' inability to break their suspect. Known for considering it a personal failing in the rare moments when he was unable to get an confession from a suspect he knew to be guilty Gibbs also felt the weight of such a high profile case hanging over his shoulders. Such weight did not come from his desire to achieve an outcome favoured by Leon, SECNAV Jarvis or any other bureaucrat but from his desire to see justice. He refused to let the deaths of two NCIS special agents go unsolved, unpunished, unavenged.

Often described as the trusty sidekick to Gibbs Tony stopped by Gibbs' desk while Ziva continued towards her desk. "Nice try, boss," he offered, promptly resuming his course for his own desk. While it was much appreciated Gibbs did not acknowledge Tony, but that was nothing unusual. Tony knew how the supervisory agent thought.

"Boss," McGee piped up from his desk as his team members made their return. "Director Vance just went on-line in MTAC with Mossad."

While it was not in his business to provide favourable outcomes to the director of NCIS it was, however, Gibbs' pleasure to humour them while he and his team did what they did best, investigate, even when their methods bent the rules or downright defied orders from the highest levels of the United States government. "Ziva," Gibbs spoke for the first time since leaving Interrogation Two. "Reach out to whatever contacts you have in Mossad. Find out who the hell we have sitting in interrogation."

"On it," Ziva obeyed, still distracted but thankful to have a task that would occupy her mind.

"Come on," Gibbs signalled McGee and DiNozzo to follow as he passed their desk and headed for the stairwell that led up to MTAC, leaving Ziva alone to carry out her assigned task. More dangerously she had been left alone to her own thoughts without her closest friends to pull her head out of the fog.

Picking up her phones receiver Ziva dialled _9_ to call outside of the Washington navy yard. Armed with a still capture taken from the interrogation rooms surveillance camera she turned to one of her former partners at Mossad. The nature of the business with which Mossad was involved meant that more often than Ziva liked her trusted friends and loyal contacts had been killed in some form or another throughout the course of their service to Israel. Further, since the departure of her father, Ziva found that one by one the number of active Mossad personnel willing to provide her with information was dwindling. In fact a lot of changes had taken place in the Israeli intelligence community since her father had passed.

While the political climate in Israel had been changing over the past decade Eli David had been the last hold out to giving up his seat at the head of Mossad to a younger successor whose thoughts and goals for Mossad were more in line with the views of the current Israeli government. Eli David was old school and, prepared to die by those methods, he had no intention of giving into political pressure and public opinion calling for him to retire. While not necessarily welcoming the death of Eli David there was no doubt in Ziva's mind that politicians embraced the vacancy at Mossad and took advantage of it to instil a new director of their liking.

"Colonel Isaac Cohen," Ziva requested of the administrative aide that answered the phone in the lobby of Mossad Headquarters 5900 miles away from Washington, D.C. The less people that knew the daughter of the previous Mossad director was asking questions about an active officer the better however Ziva found she had no choice but to call the switchboard when she discovered the extension she had for her closest breathing contact had been deemed in active.

"One moment please." An electronic crackle in the line proceeded the accent clad, baritone voice of Ziva's contact.

"Shalom, Isaac," she eagerly greeted her old friend as soon as she heard the receiver pick up.

"Ziva? Is that you?"

Isaac Cohen, a colonel in the Israeli Army had been an ideal candidate for the office of director of the Mossad for years. He was one of few control officers that had survived past his fortieth birthday but, with his methods and ideals as old school as Eli David, he was not a favourite with politicians or the new director. He was much like Special Agent Gibbs in that he went against the norm as long as he could get results and while some of his actions were borderline illegal it was those results that kept him in the good graces of Mossad's commanders. Ten years older than Ziva he had known her since being paired with Eli on a mission to eliminate a senior Iranian general and remained in contact with Ziva since she, herself, had become one of Mossad's finest.

"It is me," Ziva confirmed from her end of the line at NCIS headquarters.

Plagued with hesitation Ziva wondered if the line had went dead until Isaac finally spoke again. "To what do I owe this pleasure," he very obviously forced himself to say in what Ziva believed to be extremely uncharacteristic of him. The last time they spoke Ziva recalled having to all but hang up on the colonel mid-sentence to end their two hour long discussion shortly after her fathers burial.

"Can't I just call to catch up?" Ziva reacted with a smile although defensive, triggered by the awkwardness initiated by the colonel's hesitation.

"I heard about the loss of your agents, Ziva. I am sorry for your agency's loss," Isaac offered. "The murder of your men is all over the Middle Eastern network."

"Thank you," Ziva humoured the laboured apology. For a brief she questioned whether the man she was speaking to was actually Isaac Cohen but thought better of it as he had known who he was speaking to before she had identified herself. "Isaac, I need your help," she confessed, moving the conversation forward as the colonel probably would not say anything of substance.

Without his saying a word Ziva could sense his further hesitation across the thousands of miles separating them from one another before she delivered the details of her request of help. No doubt Mossad's director had issued a decree that no one with Mossad was to discuss the Bahrain incident with anyone on the outside. The apprehension of one of its operatives and the termination of an op was both publicly damning and embarrassing to the new director who, in the infancy of her career as head of the Mossad, had a fragile hold on her power.

"I can not help you, Ziva," Isaac revealed reluctantly and remorsefully. There was no doubt in Ziva's mind that the colonel wanted to help but being within the confines of Mossad headquarters there was no way to know if their conversation was being monitored. In the aftermath of the deaths of two Americans believed to be conducted by a Mossad operative it would be perfectly logical to believe that a phone call from the USA to the Mossad would be labeled as a possible security breech. While she understood Ziva could not help but feel frustrated, possibly betrayed by Isaac's decision to not assist her. Orders were orders but he still had the option to help her. There were plenty of ways to communicate outside of the secured Mossad HQ and she swore on the colonel as she replaced the receiver.

Ziva did not believe any of her other contacts would be forthcoming but she had no choice but to try as they were her only hope of identifying the woman held in interrogation. She again picked up the phones receiver and dialed out, this time providing a extension that fortunately worked so that she did not have to speak to a switchboard operator once again and possibly raising a red flag with the security at Mossad's headquarters. "Monica," she greet the familiar, warm voice on the line. "It's Ziva." This time the line went dead less than thirty seconds after Ziva had picked up the phone. "Beitsim," Ziva exclaimed as she violently slammed the receiver into its cradle. With three contacts remaining and running on a severe lack of luck Ziva contemplated advising tech support to have a new phone standing by after she smashed her current unit into a mess of twisted plastic and cracked circuit boards.


	4. Chapter 4

At the head of the Multiple Threat Assessment Center Leon Vance, director of NCIS, stood dead centre of the large screen that covered the forward wall of the secured communications facility. In what had become something of a past time since the woman before him took the most senior position available at the Mossad he again stood toe to toe with Eli David's successor, exchanging jabs during yet another incident that without the proper handling could explode into a diplomatic incident. Orli Elbaz, director of the Mossad, sat behind her desk on the top floor of Mossad Headquarters in Tel Aviv as a camera somewhere in the middle of the room recorded her every move and transmitted it stateside. An elegant woman she appeared to be quite overdressed for a meeting with Director Vance, adorned with a formal emerald green gown paired with golden scarf and finished with gold bangles on her right wrist. As the evening faded in the backdrop of the Tel Aviv skyline through the window behind her she was a woman who had better places to be that evening than staring down the barrel of a loaded shotgun in the form of one very pissed off director of an armed American federal agency.

Since wrapping up the incident surrounding the death of Mossad's assistant director Ilan Bodnar Leon Vance had sworn an oath to wipe his hands clean of the Israeli's, especially Mossad but fate was not on his side as he once again was forced to make contact with Director Elbaz. Had they been in the same room Leon imagined that he would be putting in his best effort to keep himself from knocking the woman on her ass.

"I can not confirm nor deny the details of an ongoing operation, Leon," the MCRT agents heard Vance's female counterpart state as they entered MTAC. In single file, in order of seniority Gibbs led DiNozzo and McGee down one of two ramps leading down towards Vance's position.

"If a participant of that op is currently in our custody then your op has been compromised, Elbaz," Gibbs countered the attempt to dodge NCIS' inquiry into the death of their agents. "Bahrain authorities are on high alert. The intelligence network in Europe, Asia and Africa are all on fire with rumours that one of your operatives was discovered trying to hop a flight to Canada. Pretty sloppy work, I'd say."

"I assure you all my operatives are account for," Director Elbaz maintained, weary of the showdown with Vance and his agents. "And none of them are in or near Al Manama, Bahrain."

"I'm sure they are," Gibbs said with a chuckle. "The last thing Mossad needs is another diplomatic incident on its record."

"Norway comes to mind," Tony cracked, standing a couple steps behind Gibbs and Vance, McGee at his side. While Vance, Gibbs and McGee reacted with a certain delighted humour in his potshot taken at the expense of Mossad's director the director herself was fully prepared to have DiNozzo shot as he reminded her of one of the most severely botched operations in the history of Mossad. It was in Lillehammer, in 1973 that a Mossad hit team repeatedly shot and ultimately killed a Moroccan waiter in cold blood while he was walking with his pregnant wife, believing him to be a member of the Black September Organization. Acting on bad intel they had killed the wrong man, an innocent man, and as a result Mossad's reputation had been irreparably damaged.

"One of our agents was Egyptian born," Gibbs told Elbaz, keeping his eyes on the screen while the familiar slam of one of MTAC's doors signalled the arrival of the only member of his team not present. "Was this a case of mistaken identity?"

"I have no information regarding the unfortunate death of your agents," Elbaz replied, continuing to insist that she had no knowledge or involvement with the incident at Bahrain's International Airport.

"That's a lie."

In response to what was to everyone but Gibbs' an abrupt intrusion on their conversation all heads in the room turned to see Ziva as she descended towards her director and team mates. Stepping past Tony and McGee she handed over a single sheet of paper to Gibbs before regarding the Mossad director with a single nod and a devilish smirk that was meant to inform Elbaz she was screwed, caught in her trap like flies to honey.

"I just heard back from my last Israeli contact," Ziva explained to the team. "She did not make it easy for me," she added in reference to the Mossad director with whom she shared animosity after learning that she and her father had been involved for several years leading up to Eli David's death. "I've been blacklisted by almost every member of Mossad," she explained before turning to talk directly to Elbaz. "But you did not account for officers who left before your promotion who still keep in regular contact with Mossad personnel."

The dumbfounded expression with which Orli Elbaz reacted made an amusing sight in the presence of Gibbs and Vance, both of whom had quickly read down through the document containing the first page of an Israeli army captain's service jacket. Nothing either of them read came as a surprise.

"Shiri Eban," Leon read aloud. "Israeli Defense Force."

"Mossad!" Gibbs exclaimed, half shouting at the video feed of Elbaz in an _Eureka!_ moment. Taking the paper from Leon Gibbs held it up in the air so that Elbaz could see the photo it contained. "Look familiar?" he asked, knowing full well that it was an image of the Israeli woman they held in custody.

While the Mossad director appeared to be formulating a reply in her head Leon, who had remained quiet while Gibbs and DiNozzo confronted Elbaz, was not interested in waiting to hear what would almost certainly be another attempt at deceiving his team. Taking a step closer to the screen he broke away from his usual professionalism and courtesy. "I'm tired of your shit, Orli!" he ripped into Elbaz, his voice booming as he reacted in a manner in which none of the agents aside from Gibbs had witnessed before. "I have two dead agents!" he shouted. "And you're stonewalling me regarding a minor op that is now over while their killer, who we both damn well know is Mossad, sits in a holding cell downstairs. The only question left for me to ask is whether or not Officer Eban shot my agents on your orders so they wouldn't compromise your op!"

Gibbs stepped forward, again positioning himself along side Vance. "Unless one or both of those men were on Mossad's hit list."

After a short pause Leon lowered his volume but the severity of his tone remained. "Do you want to rethink your side of the story before I call SECNAV and unleash the political shitstorm that will end your career before it's even gotten started?" he asked, with the clear intention of knocking Elbaz off her high horse whether or not she complied with his request.


	5. Chapter 5

"SECNAV is unavailable, sir," the MTAC control officer informed Leon Vance during the lapse in NCIS' video conference with Mossad. "Closed meeting at the White House, sir."

_Lucky for Elbaz_, Vance thought.

Seated at the foremost row of the theater seating arrangement Leon took advantage of the break in communications with Orli Elbaz to regroup his thoughts and inventory the options available to him. What was suppose to be only a one hour pause while the Mossad director rearranged her thoughts and formulated a response for the situation at hand. Elbaz was pushing two, further trying Leon Vance's patience while awaiting her answer to the allegations that one of her own had killed two NCIS field agents. With the MCRT team elsewhere Leon took advantage of his solitude to collect his thoughts. He was joined only by MTAC's control team who kept to themselves unless called upon by their director.

Seated in the front row of the theatre seating arrangements Leon took advantage of the break in communications with Mossad's director to regroup his thoughts and to inventory the options available to him. What was suppose to be only a one hour pause while Orli Elbaz rearranged her thoughts was now pushing the two hour mark. There was no doubt in Leon's mind that the response with which Elbaz fabricated would be more deceptive than truthful but in the investigation into the death of two of his own, allegedly perpetrated by a Mossad officer, he would take what he could get and unravel the lies as they came at him.

Leon Vance's relationship with Mossad dated back to his first assignment with the precursor to NCIS, then known as the Naval Investigative Service, at which point he worked along side Eli David. As that relationship expanded so did the tension which began to spiral downward following the death of Jenny Sheppard. As he came to power Leon discovered the mess that had resulted from Sheppard's authorizing the unorthodox position of liaison officer which included international scuffles with ties to every Middle Eastern nation from the Israeli's to the Iranians. Since taking the office of Director of NCIS Leon had used his personal history and relationship with Eli David to mend those international bridges but that progress had quickly been ripped to pieces in a matter of months with Eli's successor at the helm of Mossad.

Agent Gibbs also had been at the forefront of conflicts with Mossad. Since Ziva had been assigned to his team he had taken it upon himself to personally protect Ziva from her Mossad past that caught up to her, including the rocky relationship between her and her father. As he returned to MTAC with two coffee cups Gibbs continued to wonder, as he had since the apprehension of Officer Shiri Eban, what past he would have to protect Ziva from as tensions arising from the collision course between NCIS and Mossad. "Refuel," the supervisory agent suggested, taking a seat beside Vance and dropping one of the coffee cups into the holder between them.

Leon glanced at the cup and while he craved the caffeine he passed on the gesture for the time being. "No thanks," he declined gruffly. "Gibbs," he began poignantly. "Have I been too lenient? Should I have called SECNAV and let the State Department handle this from the start?" It was uncommon for the director to second guess himself, and unheard of for him to voice his indecisiveness to anyone but his late wife.

"There's a reason I'm not sitting in that chair, Leon," Gibbs replied, dodging the question as he referenced the office of the Director of NCIS. "I would have told Orli Elbaz to stick it the day she came into this building, _your turf_, and BS'd you about the rogue Mossad officers." Although Gibbs produced a reflective smile in response to the pleasure it would have been to throw Elbaz into the street Leon sat stoic, reflective for completely different reasons. He retraced his steps since ascending to his present post, as he had done many times in the past couple of hours. Leon found himself second guessing not only his handling of Mossad since Elbaz's own ascension but also his previous relationship with Eli David and how their friendship outside of their respective offices had influenced his involvement in situations that arose between their organizations.

Mossad activity, be it known to NCIS or not, had escalated considerably since Jenny Sheppard attached one of its own to Special Agent Gibbs' investigative team. It left Leon Vance to ponder, given his opposition to then-Officer David's assignment to NCIS, if he should have thrown the Israeli's over board as soon as he had a say in the matter.

"Or, y' know, I'd just shoot her," Gibbs added after a brief silence. It was his special brand of diplomacy that had not failed him thus far in his career.

While it was a barely noticeable grin that appeared on Leon's face it was a grin none the less. "Never again," he pledged aloud more to himself than to his agent. It was a promise he had may before. It was a promise to wash himself clean of Mossad but for the benefit of both his rank and his sanity Leon would hold himself to it this time. After NCIS was finished with Shiri Eban that would be the end of any relationship between them and the Mossad.

"Two hour mark, Director," one of the younger MTAC operators, a kid named Nunez, announced to Vance and the rest of the secured facility's occupants as the the deadline for Elbaz's response had long come and gone. "No transmissions from Tel Aviv."

"Dial them again." Rising from his chair Vance straightened his blazer and adjusted his tie while Gibbs joined him before the video screen.

"Round two," Gibbs remarked as intermitten beeps echoed out of MTAC's speakers signalling the efforts of comm operators to once again reach Orli Elbaz's office.

"They're not acknowledging, sir," the operator reported after approximately twenty seconds. "And we've just been disconnected."

"Guess you have her reply, Leon," Gibbs said.

Seething in his dissatisfaction the director kept his sights aimed forward, refusing to allow Gibbs or the centre operators see his composure waiver. "Gibbs!" he shouted abruptly as the agent began the journey up one of the ramps to exit MTAC. "Put David and DiNozzo in with Ms. Eban. If Elbaz isn't going to talk, her officer sure as hell will." As the security door slammed behind Gibbs Vance reached into an inside pocket of his suit jacket and removed a toothpick wrapped in a sterile plastic sheath. "Almost made it one week," he said, surrendering to his habit as he plucked the wooden pick into his mouth.

Since being released from MTAC Gibbs' team, minus their fearless leader, had returned to the squad room one floor below. In their respective bullpen the three teammates were all at their desks determined to get a break in their investigation into the deaths of their colleagues and in learning more about the Israeli currently in their custody.

Speaking in Hebrew with the occasional misquoted American idiom thrown in for personal thought Ziva was returning a call to the only Israeli contact who had put any effort into assisting NCIS' investigation. Now that both her contact and the director of Mossad had confirmed Eban's identity there were new questions, most of them pertaining to the details of the op run by Mossad that in some manner involved Eban's presence at the international airport in Al Manama. The team also needed to know Eban's reasons for killing two NCIS agents who were also at the airport and may or may not have been killed in connection to an ongoing Mossad operation.

As Ziva followed up with her contact Tony and McGee were huddled at the latter's desk as they combed through security footage sent to them by Bahranian authorities. They had been informed by law enforcement in Al Manama that Eban had successfully evaded almost every surveillance camera at the airport however both senior field agents had been well trained by their silver haired mentor and one of Gibbs' rules ingrained in their minds was _Don't believe what you're told. Double check._ The rule applied in this situation as, five minutes after arriving at the international hub, Eban had crossed paths with two CCTV lenses.

"Sitrep," Gibbs demanded instead of requesting as he arrived back at the teams work cubicals, his silent approach again taking his agents by surprise as he returned to his own desk across from McGee's.

Taking a quick break from her native tongue Ziva glanced up from her computer as she took notes of her conversation. "Follow up with my contact in Israel," she reported. "I am attempting to get more details about Mossad's operation in Paris."

"Scanning the footage from the airport in Bahrain, boss," Tony followed up to Ziva's situation report. "We've seen Shiri Eban twice already. Watching her like a hawk."

"McGee can do it," Gibbs instructed. "Tony. Ziver. Interrogation. Director Elbaz gave us the finger. Go and find out what Officer Eban was doing in Bahrain."


	6. Chapter 6

There was a constant struggle ensuing within Tony DiNozzo's mind as he matched Ziva's brisk pace that carried them away from the squad room and towards the interrogations rooms to, once again, interview Officer Shiri Eban of the Mossad. In the time since watching Gibbs' questioning Eban Tony took note of body language and general abnormal behaviour of the woman with whom he had worked with and had gotten to know for eight years. In addition to his observations Tony relied on the uneasiness indicated by his gut instinct. While his gut instincts were nowhere near as legendary or infallible as the mighty Leroy Jethro Gibbs' he had come to rely on his own and it told him that Ziva was holding out when it came to the Mossad officer in the custody of NCIS. As a loyal friend of Ziva's he chose not to go to Gibbs, who probably had an inkling of his own, but Tony knew he would have to speak to Ziva before they went toe to toe with Eban interrogation. As they both rounded the corner that completely cloaked the squad room from view Tony knew his time to act had arrived.

Tony stopped mid-step, looking down as a slight taint of guilt found its way into his heart as questions crossed his mind that could be perceived by his team mate as doubting her loyalty to the time or, more importantly, the friendship they shared.

In her anxiousness to reach their destination and finally get answers to the agency's questions in addition to maybe settling her own curiosity Ziva was several steps ahead of her partner before she finally stopped and made an about turn. In silence she regarded Tony inquisitively. Neither spoke words but their body language, each knowing the others tells and eccentricities, spoke volumes as Tony stared Ziva straight in the eye with the all too serious look that could rarely be seen as the senior field agent often confronted the more serious situations in life and work with a healthy dose of humour. In what had become a staring contest and a game of wits Tony made the first move as the point of their awkward show down crossed the point of no return.

In what could trigger a volatile reaction, skipping any safer build up to the million dollar question, Tony abruptly poised the thought that had been on his mind and dancing around in his gut since day one of their investigation. "Are you going to tell me how you know Officer Eban?" As he dropped the ball Tony realized it was never a question of _if_ she knew their suspect, only the circumstances surrounding _how_.

Had she followed through on her first instinct Ziva's fist would have connected squarely against Tony's jaw in what he was aware would have been a damn fine left hook. She resisted the urge, instead clenching her fists and holding them in place at the seams of her slacks while seething on the inside. In truth her reaction had nothing to do with whether or not her loyalty or her friendship was being held in doubt. Ziva trusted Tony and believed that neither played a role in his reasons for asking her about the Mossad officer. Everyone at NCIS wanted answers however the questions that Ziva had on her mind were personal, hers and of consequence to no one besides herself and the anger and frustration she was now experiencing stemmed from her now compromised desire to keep those questions to herself.

"I do not know her," Ziva initially insisted in the face of Tony's unbroken gaze against her own. It was a lie, unsturdy at best, but it was her first instinct. It was not based on her desire to be dishonest with Tony but a self defence mechanism to preserve her own suspicions regarding the true identity of Shiri Eban. However with no further prompt from Tony she crumbled under the stress that had come from recent events and Tony's directness. "I mean, I might know her," she managed. "She is familiar to me."

As sure as Tony was that he could trust Ziva with his life there was a reminder lingering towards the back of his mind reminding him of how Ziva had a history of not being entirely truthful or forthcoming when it came to her relationships with Mossad personnel. The circumstances of Officer Michael Rivkin's activities in the United States were the most prominent, and it had affected Tony personally as he had asked Ziva about the nature of her relationship with Officer Rivkin more than once. Ziva had once admitted to thinking about killing him following Rivkin's death. Treading carefully, Tony moved forward with the can of worms he had blown open. "You need to tell me, Ziva," he implored her. No matter how much he wanted to protect Ziva Tony knew that depending on what he was told he would possibly have to report every word to Gibbs.

As much as she wanted to continue fighting Tony and deflecting his inquiry Ziva finally surrendered to the bond of trust and friendship that they had spent eight years establishing. "Orli Elbaz has identified her as Shiri Eban," she began, referring to the Mossad officer who was located just down the corridor and a second turn away from their position. "I'm sure it will be of no surprise to you that, again, the director of Mossad has not been entirely honest with us." Slowly, however surely, the truth began to unravel from the shroud that had been hiding it. "My gut tells me _Shiri Eban_ is not her name, Tony. I think I recognize her, but it's been fourteen years."

"Fourteen years? That would make you,what? Eighteen? Nineteen?" Tony probed further as Ziva opened up. He recalled the details of the file Ziva had delivered to Vance, Gibbs and himself in MTAC. "Eban was born in 1983. That means she would have only been sixteen?"

Ziva nodded. "If the information passed on to me by my contact is accurate, then yes." Her answers were short. While she was not avoiding answering Ziva intended to keep her responses as to the point as possible.

"Did you serve with her in the Israeli Army?" Tony asked, attempting to figure possible means for a relationship between Ziva, then a Mossad officer, and the sixteen year old Eban. "Could she have been Mossad?"

"Mossad officers, while not yet conscripted into the Army for their mandatory two years of service, have been known to serve as young as fourteen in an unofficial capacity," Ziva explained. "I was fourteen and answering the call to serve my country when I started working with Mossad, Tony."

"Is that where you recognize her? Did you work together on an op?" Tony asked while taking a shot in the dark.

Another nod. "Cairo, I think."

Although he did not have the necessary pieces to construct the puzzle that paralleled Shiri Eban's past to that of Tali David's Tony's head was now filled with several more questions that might just have led to Ziva's confession had they both not been attracted by audio clues of a scuffle around the bend in the corridor ahead of them. Even as tension rose between the two agents and as Ziva's resentment for Tony's line of questioning grew both of them postponed any further words as they let their training and professionalism take over. No sooner did they reach the turn in the corridor did the body of a woman fall directly in their path, landing at the feet of the agents.

Known to Tony and Ziva as Janelle Lennox the woman was a probationary agent, new to the navy yard, who had been assigned to stand guard outside of the interrogation room where Shiri Eban was held in custody. The young agent laid sprawled on her back with the handle of a knife sticking outward from her chest. It was a clean stab to the heart and had probably taken Lennox entirely by surprise. Most probably dead medical training given to the agents recommended doing what they believed may help the fallen woman to survive. As Tony removed his jacket and used it to apply pressure to the wound Ziva reached for her phone and dialled the switchboard in the lobby of NCIS headquarters.

"This is Agent David. We have an agent down outside Interrogation Two. We need an ambulance." As she spoke Ziva peered down the corridor and saw the door to the interrogation room wide open. No sooner had she ended her call when she and Tony shared a glance, the exact moment when they both realized that their suspect who now had killed three NCIS special agents had escaped custody and was loose inside their own building presumably looking for method of escape.

"Take over!" Tony ordered, practically pulling Ziva's hands onto the makeshift pressure garment he had fashioned from his designer blazer.

"Go!" Ziva told him, and watched as he drew his weapon and took off sprinting down the corridor as she tended to the fallen agent. Regardless of what feelings of hostility might have come from their recent confrontation she felt concern for him as, after clearing the exposed interrogation room, he disappeared out of her sight.


	7. Chapter 7

"This is Special Agent DiNozzo. We need to lock down the building. No in or out," Tony advised Federal security guards responsible for the protection of NCIS Headquarters. "We have an escaped suspect." With his left hand handling his cell Tony kept a firm grip on his SIG with his right hand, holding it on eye level as he swept and cleared turns in the corridor before sprinting ahead to the next bend in the path ahead of him. He had no way of knowing exactly where Officer Eban went but his gut instinct and investigative experience studying criminal behaviour told him that Eban was probably looking for a way out of the building. From their floor Eban had two options, the elevator or the stairwells. Knowing full well that the elevator could only be reached by passing through the open squad room occupied by at least a dozen armed agents Tony did not have to strain his thoughts to guess that Eban would probably take the stairwell down to either the first level or one of the basement levels in order to execute her escape.

As he approached the door to the stairwell the senior agent shoved his phone back into his pocket and steadied the grip on his weapon. The closed door provided cover for Eban who could be lurking in wait, assuming that she would be pursued sooner than later. Even in the split second it would take for him to burst through the stairwell access door Tony was well aware that Eban could be standing beyond, ready to ambush him. While Eban was slender and petite in comparison to himself, having killed two NCIS agents and being a product of Mossad Tony knew Eban could match him in hand to hand. Ziva had demonstrated the effectiveness of Israeli military and Mossad close quarters combat training on a number of occasions. As more of a brawler than a pro martial artist Tony stood little chance against a woman trained in the art of Krav Maga. Both cautious and swift he charged the stairwell door, using a tackle to connect with the doors latch and forcing it open while doing his best to keep the barrel of his gun aimed towards the stairs and the landing below him.

While the landing, connecting two flights of stairs in between floors, was clear as he made his descent Tony saw two figures huddled on the second landing, collapsed against the door leading onto the ground floor of NCIS headquarters. A man in his mid thirties laid nearly unconscious, his breathing laboured as he was supported by a younger woman who, though terrified, remained at his side to assist him in his injured condition. The young woman pointed further down the stairs, anticipating Tony's question.

"I tried to stop her," the man managed in between gasps for air. An unsteady hand pulled back his suit jacket to reveal a vacant retention holster. "She took my weapon," he admitted in defeat.

"Stay with him," Tony told the woman. "Keep him calm. Base medical is on the way." Keeping his weapon aimed down the next flight of stairs he again reached for his phone and dialled Gibbs who had no doubt already been advised of the situation. "Boss, Eban's trying to rabbit. She's heading down to the basement."

_"Cover Abby. Cover Ducky,"_ Gibbs ordered over the phone. _"McGee and I are on our way down."_

Tony didn't reply as Gibbs disconnected the call on his end in his usual way. Eban had no need, and probably did not have the desire to harm either NCIS' chief medical examiner, his assistant or their primary forensics specialist however if one of them crossed paths with her no one was able to predict whether Eban would leave them be or kill them where they stood to cover her tracks. Hoping for the best, but prepared for the worst, Tony hauled open the door leading into the first basement floor of the building where the found autopsy almost immediately to his left, ahead of the elevator that Eban probably ignored in favour of an exit that wouldn't guarantee an encounter with special agents, MPs or building security.

His weapon held out Tony rushed into autopsy where Doctor Donald Mallard and his assistant Jimmy Palmer had begun washing the bodies of the agents shipped home from Bahrain. Both medical examiners, clearly startled, looked up to find the mouth of a SIG aimed in their vicinity.

"Can we help you, Tony?" Ducky asked as calmly as possible given the circumstances meanwhile his assistant looked as if he was in need of new pair of boxers.

"Lock the door behind me," Tony ordered, for once skipping straight to the point before running back the way he came. As he continued through the corridor the red beacons above the autopsy doors lit up and the hiss of an air tight seal could be heard, both indications that autopsy was now under quarantine however not for containment purposes as was their customary function.

"Abby!" Tony shouted urgently, his voice plagued with concern as he reached the forensics lab. As before he didn't know what to expect. In the face of danger, as she had been in several times in the past, Tony knew forensics specialist Abby Sciuto to be resourceful. At the very least he expected a barrier of crazy glue covering the floor just beyond the door to Abby's lab or a makeshift water gun modified to fire hydrochloric acid at the next homicidal maniac who tried to violate her personal work space and home away from home. "Abby!" he shouted again, stopping short of the doorway, the toe of his shoes barely avoiding the edge of a sheet of super, quick bonding adhesive.

Hiding in the section of lab just beyond the main area of her lab Abby poked her head out. Her eyes lit up, banishing the look of horror on her face as she revealed herself to be carrying a syringe filled with some clear substance in one hand, a caff pow in the other, and a roll of duct tape hanging off one of her wrists. "This is one killer who's not getting into my lab!" she declared defiantly, anxious to hug Tony, her saviour, but prevented from doing so by her own barrage of makeshift defences. The defiance, however, was short lived as the sound of a double tap preceded two eruptions of drywall only inches from Tony's head. As her flight response kicked in Abby dropped back behind the wall separating the sections of her lab.

Tony immediately ducked and took cover behind the wall just outside the door to the forensics lab, taking advantage of what little cover it offered from the corridor as it continued several meters down before veering off into two possible routes. Without looking down the corridor he poke his gun around the corridor and fired two shots in quick succession. He held his body from from the corner as another pairing chipping away at the wall in front of his face. As he heard the familiar ping of the elevator down the corridor near autopsy Tony decided to hold his position until reinforcements arrived. He could not afford to underestimate Eban who probably had the same skills with a gun as Ziva David.

"Boss, down!" Tony cried out, loud enough for Gibbs to hear before they cross into the path of Eban's rounds.

With their own sidearms drawn Gibbs and McGee held back, a few meters behind Tony's cover as Eban continued to fire in their direction. Breaking cover for only a second the supervisory agent's SIG discharged three rounds which flew down the corridor and struck dangerously close to Eban who swiftly retreated behind her own corner to the right of the end of the hallway passing by the forensics lab. "Move!" he told McGee, leading his agent to Tony's position before continuing forward towards Eban's position.

Tony and McGee followed, backing Gibbs from close behind as they tripled the offence against the escaped Mossad officer.

"She's got to be heading for the emergency exit near autopsy pick up, Boss" McGee suggested. "The only other exit is through the evidence garage and she would need an active retina scan to go that way."

"How does she even know where she's going?" Tony raised a valid point as Eban had appeared to take all the necessary turns and had turned towards the autopsy garage instead of evidence, as if to know that the autopsy delivery area was her only viable choice on the current floor.

"She must have had help," Gibbs said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, and to him it was just that obvious. He signalled for his agents to follow, keeping his guard up as he rounded each corridor leading to the garage used to deliver and receive bodies for the medical examiner. "Base security should be on site."

Between an army of MPs from the navy yard, building security and a swarm of Federal agents there was little concern whether or not Officer Eban would escape. All access points to the building had been barricaded and by now all stairwells and elevators were secured. While Eban may go down fighting, there was no question she would be apprehended. At least, that was what the agents hoped. With no motive in the deaths of the two agents in Bahrain and very little known about Eban herself no one to the west of the Atlantic Ocean knew exactly what the Mossad operative's intentions were or what the operation assigned to her entailed. If she did effectively elude the agents there was very little that could be done to stop a highly skilled, very deadly Mossad officer like Eban. There was no doubt, she had to be caught and returned to NCIS custody _before _she escaped headquarters. There was no other option.

As multiple gunshots rang out further down the corridor, probably from the delivery garage, Gibbs and Tony sped up to assist whoever it was that had drawn fire from Eban. McGee followed close behind however pursuing and having to engage a trained assassin was not within his known expertise. While Gibbs had successfully fought and incapacitated Marines twice his size in hand to hand combat and DiNozzo had survived going toe to toe with a Kidon operative of the Mossad himself, Tim McGee had never been proven under such conditions. By now, after almost a decade with the agency, he had seen his share of the action, even having been kidnapped by terrorists in Somalia, but he had not been tested in a physical brawl and with a background in computer forensics, it was not something he was accustomed to. Containing those negative thoughts and doubts to the depths of his mind he matched pace with the senior agents. He would worry about it if and when the situation arose.

Orders to stop from two separate men could be heard by the team as they drew closer to the delivery garage. More gun shots followed and, as they arrived at the garage, Eban could be seen fighting bare knuckle with two security officers. Striking one of her opponents in the jugular with a closed fist Eban, with what appeared to be a bullet wound in her upper left arm, grabbed a punch intended for her in her open palm. Taking a hold of the officer's full arm Eban twisted it until the limb could be heard popping out of its socket, encurring a dull roar from her victim.

"Let him go, Eban!" Gibbs demanded coldly, authoritively but still perfectly calm as he kept the barrel of his SIG aimed at Eban's head. Tony and McGee held their weapons to her chest. If at any point it appeared like she would actually kill the guard, Eban herself would be lying on the concrete with at least three bullets in her body.

Shiri Eban held the injured officer's body before her own as she turned to face the three agents targeting her, revealing that she was not only using the guard as a human shield but also that he held the guard's gun to his head. "You shoot. I shoot," she warned, speaking directly to Gibbs who had previously interrogated her. Her finger slightly compressed the trigger of the weapon, an M-9, to the point where only a light tap would discharge the chambered 9mm round into the temple of the imprisoned guard.

"I don't have a shot, boss!" Tony raised the alarm, adjusting his aim to several different angles, accessing the feasibility in each one as to whether or not he would be able to risk shooting the Mossad officer.

"Tell them to drop their weapons!" Eban instructed, tilting her head in the direction of the MPs and guards who stood to one side behind her. Her voice communicated a sense of desperation to escape the confines of NCIS headquarters and the Navy yard however her body language and posture illustrated a different story. Her hand was steady, her stare locked with Gibbs' gaze, and her body told him that she would kill the guard in an instant as soon as she heard any other trigger compress around her.

Gibbs, like DiNozzo and McGee, also assessed the situation facing him with experience and composure, though with added pressure before the circumstances escalated to out of control proportions. As long as Eban remained within the secured Navy yard the lead agent had a clear set of options but once she escaped beyond those fences their would be a manhunt for the Mossad operative who, on the outside, had plenty of resources to call upon to escape. Those resources undoubtedly including other members of Mossad if not Director Elbaz herself. His choices slowly dwindled as Eban forced the muzzle of her M-9 tighter against the guards head.

Gibbs released his finger, retiring to the trigger guard of his SIG, and held his left hand towards the MPs and guards standing aft of Eban, his palm facing outward. "Put away your weapons," he ordered.

"SIR?" one of the Marine MPs, a bulked up African American male standing close to 6'4", objected. Given his appearance he was probably not use to giving up without a fight, or submitting to the orders of a civilian agent.

"Do it, Staff Sergeant!" Gibbs shouted back. "She wins this round."

Reluctantly, following Gibbs' orders, the MPs and guards submitted to the agents authority and holstered their sidearms while creating a clear path for Eban from her present location to the open garage door that led to freedom for the woman. Cautiously she backed up, keeping a hold of the guard and keeping the weapon to his temple as her eyes shifted from her left to her right, keeping an eye on each of the men that surrounded her to ensure that no one attempted any heroic act. Gibbs also watched the MPs as much as he did Eban, knowing that the second any of the Marines lunged towards Eban not only would her hostage be killed but they would probably be gunned down as well.

Only the three Federal agents kept their weapons ready, standing a distance from Eban that was safe to her and not obstructing her escape route. They watched as Eban continued to hold the guard in submission and at gunpoint, remaining still until she was out of sight. Then they mobilized again.

"Don't try to follow her," Gibbs ordered the moment two MPs attempted to sprint towards the open garage port. "We'll have her on security cameras. We'll divise a plan to take her back into custody," he told them.

"The yards locked down. She can't get out," McGee added overconfidently.

"She's Mossad, Probie," DiNozzo corrected his partner. "She's resourceful, and she has a hostage."

"DiNozzo, tell us something we don't know," Gibbs sighed with exasperation, leading his team out of the garage and back towards the elevator. His frustrations sky rocketed as his failure, not only losing his suspect but also losing a suspect with an injured civilian at her mercy. His phone ringing he whipped it open and brought to his ear. "Gibbs."

"My office. Now," Vance could be heard angrily over the line by DiNozzo and McGee as they followed behind.


End file.
